I backed Gemma into the alcove the second the danger passed. The ledger trapped between our bodies, my forearm still pressed to her collarbone. She didn't pull away. I didn't either.

My whole life had been about power and distance. Claiming what belonged to a rival was suicide. Admitting I needed the heat of another body was worse. But the primal urge to take her, to claim her rough and make her mine, clawed through every rule I'd set. I could feel her defiance turning into something else, something that matched the hunger I refused to name.

The concrete wall pressed cold against us. Her breath mixed with mine in the dark. I growled for her to stay still. My hand didn't move.